


Forbidden pleasures

by fraufi666



Category: Political RPF - Australian 20th-21st c., Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, American Presidents, Authority Figures, Crack, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Nudity, Romance, Sexual Content, Suspense, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unlikely historical pair visits Malcolm Turnbull after a long, hard day of work. Only during this visit, does the communications minister realises these powerful, yet scandalous feelings that he never thought he had. The evening then takes an unexpected, albeit, risqué turn…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is an AU. Although I have used historical and real political figures this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased.

The sun was starting to dip in the blue horizon near the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Malcolm Turnbull sighed as he had finally arrived home, not all too eager to get started on the large mountain of work that was assigned to him. Since being promoted to the e-government by the prime minister, there was an overwhelming amount of responsibility that he had to take care of. 

  _Just because Tony Abbott does not know his way around the keyboard, it does not mean I have to do every bit of work for him related to technology._ Turnbull inwardly grumbled. After taking one last look at the scenery, he went back indoors and sat down at his desk.

 He started up his computer, staring blankly at the screen for a few moments. No matter how hard he tried, he could not focus. _Why?!_ The communications minster thought in annoyance. _Why was today of all days the hardest to get work done?_

 Briefly his gaze turned towards his bookshelf, in particular to one he had written, entitled _The Reluctant Republic._ Distracted by the title, Turnbull started to ponder about the differences between Republicanism in the states to Australia. If only the Australian people were willing to change the flag! It was like nobody had wanted to listen to him, especially the majority of the Liberal Party. They were all so focussed on keeping the Union Jack and all the ties to the monarchy. He could not understand why. Sighing in dismay, he turned away from the book and tried again to start his work. 

 A couple of hours had passed and Turnbull was still sitting at the computer typing. A cool breeze blew against his neck and hair. Confused, Turnbull stood up and turned around. The door to the balcony was still wide open. 

  _Thought I already closed the bloody thing._ He thought crossly. Great. Another distraction. With a forceful slam, he had finally closed the door. Making sure that it would not budge; he started to make his way back to the computer. 

 But then something made him hesitate. Footsteps. Quick, uncertain footsteps. Turnbull spun around to see who was lurking in his house. There was nobody at home but himself. 

 Instinctively, he grabbed a cricket bat and scanned the room frantically. "Who's there?!" He called out loudly trying not to sound scared. "I'll call the police!" Malcolm held the bat, ready to hit whoever was intruding his home. 

 There was no reply. 

 "I know you're in there! Show yourself!" Turnbull demanded. 

 "Shhh!" A voice hushed. A suited figure emerged from the shadows. "My credibility will be at stake if they find out." 

 The voice was oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It sounded as if the speaker had an American accent. But how did he know it? 

 The man's features became clearer as he walked closer to the light. Receding brow, dark eyebrows, fierce Republican eyes. 

   
It was Richard Nixon. 

  
Turnbull looked at him in shock. "What..how?! How did you get into my house? You're dead!" He gasped. 

"Shut up you hippy." Nixon responded angrily "We could be watched. Now is this place tapped?"

"T-Tapped?" Turnbull chuckled, overcoming his skittishness "This isn't the Watergate hotel you know. Now get lost and let me work." He wondered whether he was seeing things from the lack of sleep he was having. 

 Suddenly, Nixon grabbed him, pinning him against the wall roughly, his hand covering the Australian's mouth. The president checked the room in paranoia. "Damn it. You've just blown our cover." 

 Turnbull was about to ask what exactly Nixon had meant until he was suddenly aware of the man's strong hands against his arms. He stared at the American's features properly, realising that he had looked oddly handsome. Perhaps it was just a subconscious thing to see the president's distinctive profile in history books. But up close, the man appeared even more powerful. He found himself wondering what the whole fuss was with Kennedy, when his Republican counterpart had looked so assertive. Tricky Dick clearly looked nothing like those political cartoons of an anxious man with an oversized nose. 

 "There is still time...." Nixon suddenly said, turning back to Turnbull and removing his hand from his mouth. He stared deeply into his eyes for a while, before flashing a winning smile as if he had won an election. "…You might be able to help us. "

 Turnbull felt his heart racing as the other man spoke. Somewhere deep, deep within him these feelings might have existed. Forbidden pleasures that he could not even admit to himself. Never had they emerged until that very moment. Oh, he could think of a way to help Nixon. But he was not completely sure what the other man had in mind. 

 Sweat glistened on the other man's forehead as he noticed Turnbull staring at him so intently. "I…I am not a fag." Nixon stuttered defensively.

 "Really?" Turnbull asked, smiling slyly. He only had to look down briefly to see a bulge in the other man's pants "What way would you like me to help you?" Now it was time to show some Australian hospitality. Get straight to the point. "Come on, Nixon. You must want something."

 He felt a hand shyly touch his own. "Err..I should not have to spell this out to you." Nixon responded gruffly "You should know!" 

 "Should know what?" A lower voice asked, this time in a German accent. 

 Nixon and Turnbull both looked up to see a shorter man with thick glasses. 

 "H-Henry…" Nixon gasped "I..this isn't what it looks like!"

 "It is alright, Mr President." Henry Kissinger responded smoothly "I will support you in whatever decision you make." He walked closer; eyeing at the man that Nixon had looked so taken with. 

 "Hello. I do believe I have heard of you from somewhere." Kissinger said politely to Turnbull. He smiled kindly and turned back to Nixon "He is quite a good choice, Mr President. I am very pleased with your decision. But why did you not ask me first? I would not have minded." 

 Nixon blushed "I..I wasn't sure how you were going to take it." He stammered.

 "If he is a conservative then I will take it well." Kissinger replied calmly. He placed hand on Nixon's shoulder "Now go on, show him who is boss." The German whispered into his ear encouragingly. 

 Nixon roughly gripped Turnbull by the jaw, giving him a hard kiss on the mouth. Turnbull's heart jolted as he was kissed, but managed to bite Nixon's lip in response. 

 The president moaned, both in pain and pleasure. 

 "Come on, Richard. You cannot let this man get to you." Kissinger urged. "Try again."

 Just as Nixon was about to make a second attempt, Turnbull's lips collided with his own even faster. He could even feel his tongue making its way though his mouth. Helpless in this entanglement, he had finally let the other man go, his hands falling to his sides. 

 After Turnbull had pulled away, he was smirking. Nixon seemed to be so easy to control. It was a side to the president that he had enjoyed seeing. 

 Nixon glared back at Turnbull in anger. Reading his expression, Kissinger planted a kiss on the president's cheek. "Don't feel discouraged, Mr President. There is still a way that we can make this work." The National Security Advisor was now making his way towards Turnbull. Quickly, with no nonsense, he kissed him on the neck and then more gently on the mouth. He threaded his fingers through the white strands. "I can see why you are so well liked by the president…" Kissinger responded, grinning. 

 Turnbull got back at him with a harder kiss, but Kissinger was not so easy to dominate. He pulled away, wagging his finger like a schoolteacher. "Now now, this is only just the beginning." He said to him in his thick accent. Slowly, he started to take off his tie and then unbutton his shirt. Normally, such an action would shock the communications minister, but he sat back smugly, seeing what this other man could possibly do. Perhaps it was just overconfidence, but either way, he was not fussed at all.

 Cool air touched his skin as Kissinger had removed his shirt. He did not even realise how constraining and hot his shirt had made him until that moment of relief. He turned to Nixon and then started to remove his shirt, just as slowly Kissinger had done to him. He kept his eyes on the president's, watching how tense he was under such suspense. Nixon also looked incredibly intimidated that someone of a lower political rank to himself was able to manipulate him so easily. As he removed his shirt, he noticed how much he was sweating, and as he moved slightly closer, could hear Nixon breathing heavily. 

 "I am not a quitter..." Nixon murmured, glaring at Turnbull darkly. Turnbull merely grinned as he realised that he had trapped the president. 

 But to Turnbull's surprise, Nixon pulled away and started to run out of the room, laughing like a banshee. The communications minister assumed that he was all talk and no action and was startled as the other fled quickly. He chased after him, Kissinger following closely behind. Arousal was quickly replaced by fear as he hoped that nobody was at home when this was happening. How could he explain about the two powerful historical figures that were in the house?  

 He was panting once he had reached the entertainment room. Nixon was thankfully there, grinning with boyish delight at the board game that was still left out, most likely from the kids. 

 "Oh boy!" Nixon giggled with glee "I did not know that these games would still be around nowadays." He turned to the two other men "Malcolm, now do you have anything to drink?"

 "D-drink?" Turnbull was taken aback. Everything was moving all too quickly for him to pick up on anything.

 "Don't be bashful. I heard you Australians are great drinkers." Nixon said, his dark eyes piercing into Turnbull's bluish ones "God I hate parties." He continued, inspecting the box "But if I have some drinks then they aren't so bad." 

 Turnbull was about to ask what the president's intentions were until Kissinger had entered the room, carrying what had looked like a bottle of scotch. 

 "This was all I found, Mr President. I hope that is good enough." 

 Turnbull gasped, more in confusion than anger. How did Kissinger know where the drinks were kept? "You can't take that!"

 Nixon ignored him, accepted the bottle from Kissinger and took a hearty swig from it. He handed it to Kissinger who also started to drink from it. Kissinger flinched at the strong drink but gave the bottle to Malcolm, smiling slyly. 

 "Now it is your turn." The man coaxed invitingly. 

 With slightly shaking hands, Malcolm held the bottle, which was still surprisingly full and took a generous swig from it. Of course, it did not take too long before he had started to feel tipsy. But in a way, this had made him more relaxed and eager to play. 

 In a few moments, Nixon had shifted much closer to Kissinger and could not stop putting his hands on him. Kissinger moved forward to plant a kiss on Nixon's lips but the man moved slightly in his tipsy state, causing the National Security Advisor to miss and kiss his cheek instead. Slightly frustrated, Kissinger puffed up his cheeks. 

 But at that moment, Turnbull was suddenly in front of him, kissing him instead. It had felt so natural and after seeing how neglected Kissinger had looked, he believed that every kiss should be met with another. 

 Kissinger sighed, patted him on the shoulder and pulled away, turning his attention to the coloured spinner that was left on the floor. He spun it around and the spinner pointed to green. He placed a foot on the allocated spot. 

 Nixon then took the spinner, spun it and placed his foot on the blue spot. Even though the game had only started, Nixon was chuckling loudly. Turnbull later spun the spinner, but the pointer landed on the left hand, green spot. He crouched down awkwardly to place his hand in the right place. 

 During the first ten minutes, the positions seemed easy enough, but then Turnbull found himself stretched out in between Nixon and Kissinger. The president was looking over him, his arms pretty much stretched over his chest, but Kissinger was nowhere in his line of vision.

 Just then, he felt something touch him on the backside and was about to move away but remembered that he was unable to while they were still playing. He wanted to at least check the spinner to see what exactly he had to do next but as he started to move out, he heard Kissinger whisper closely beneath him

 "Do not worry about the spinner. I am taking care of it." Kissinger responded smoothly. At that moment, Nixon's hot hand was on his chest. Turnbull flinched slightly. 

 "Don't move." Nixon said sternly, flashing his trademark grin "You don't want to lose, do you?" Even though he was trying to be serious, his voice was beginning to slur. "Even in politics we have to play dirty… " He whispered and at that, Turnbull felt a hand touch his crotch. He jolted, feeling his arms shake in the position he was in. 

 "Now, put your hand on the red spot." Kissinger directed. But when Turnbull looked down, the only closest place where he could place it, was on Kissinger. He rested it on the underside of his thigh. The other man trembled in response. 

 "I have no more body parts to play with that aren't already taken." Turnbull slurred, "Guess I'll just have to use my face instead." He laughed as he noticed Nixon's face hovering over the next spot he was assigned to, but the president locked his face with his. 

 "Too late." Nixon smirked, and with that they were locked into another kiss. In his state of drunken passion, Turnbull squeezed Kissinger's thigh, causing the man to fall onto the play mat. Turnbull lost balance soon after, with Nixon falling directly on top of him, biting his lip. Turnbull gasped. 

 "Oh it is getting hot here." Nixon began to complain. He reached for a handkerchief in what would be his coat but remembered that he was no longer wearing a shirt. 

 "Then why don't you take it off?" Kissinger sneered. He pulled out from underneath Turnbull, helping Nixon out of the rest of his clothes. Turnbull watched, still grinning. 

 But as Kissinger's back was turned, Turnbull had moved his hands from Kissinger's sides, running his fingers against the belt until he had found the buckle. He then started to remove the other man's trousers. 

 Kissinger did not react at this, too preoccupied with undressing Nixon. "There's no need to be shy…" He said reassuringly to Nixon as the man blushed in his nakedness "You look beautiful. He turned around to smile at Turnbull "Don't you think so, Malcolm?"

 "Yes..." Turnbull agreed, about to take off his own trousers in the process. But as he started, he felt Kissinger's hands pull his own away and very slowly, began to unzip him. 

 "Let's see how powerful you really are…communications boy." Kissinger said huskily in his Bavarian accent. 

 "Let me take over." Nixon insisted, stepping forward. Kissinger looked back at him.

 "Whatever you say, meine liebe." came the reply. 

 Nixon was quick to pull off the man's pants until Turnbull was wearing nothing but his briefs. The other two were completely naked, and aroused from what he could see. Gazing at both of their members, he would not have minded having either one of them inside of him. 

 He felt Kissinger resting his hands on his shoulders behind him. A hand trailed to his hair, playing with his white strands. Turnbull closed his eyes, finding the sensation rather soothing. 

 "Does that make you feel good?" Kissinger asked, his hand still in his hair, he looked over to Nixon and gave him a wink. "Proceed." He said gently. 

 Fingers skimmed against the elastic of his briefs, as if to tease him. Nixon's other hand ran down his belly but suddenly the president had other ideas. He turned his arm around so that Turnbull could feel the dark, thick hairs tickling his skin instead. 

 Finally he could feel Nixon moving the briefs down over his knees before grabbing hold of his member. He moaned, perhaps louder than he had intended and felt his cheeks burn. Nixon smiled at him and Kissinger's hands continued to stroke his hair. 

 "Rest now." Kissinger whispered, helping the communications minister to the floor. He could feel the cool plastic play mat against his bare back and Kissinger had knelt behind him, still holding his head in his hands. 

 Nixon gave Turnbull's member a few strong pumps before running his tongue against it. Turnbull shivered as he did so. At this reaction, Nixon continued, running his tongue around in circular motions.

 At this point, it was impossible to hold back his moans. 

 "More!" He demanded "Faster…hurry…" He was panting even heavier than ever. Kissinger's fingers had left his hair and were trailing down his body. Soon, the National Security Advisor's lips had crashed against his and he moaned even louder as Kissinger played with his tongue. He could not even remember being kissed with so much overwhelming passion and he could not ignore the pleasures the unspeakable regions of his body was experiencing. It was all so wrong, but like all sins, it just felt so good. He was hopelessly addicted. 

 The whole afternoon in Parliament may have been another day, another lifetime. The only thing that was really going through his mind was the need for more pleasure, just to reach his climax. Nothing else had mattered until he could feel satisfied. He closed his eyes, and as Kissinger continued to kiss him deeply, dug his fingernails into the other man's back. Nixon's mouth was still busy, although at times the president would slow down a little, making him tense and frustrated once more. It was not long ago that he was planning on dominating the president, strong, assertive and paranoid Nixon…but now he was giving in to the man's caresses and he hated how much he had enjoyed that. Since when was being dominated so perfect? 

 Finally, he was sure that he was about to receive his long awaited climax as a strong rush of pleasure swept beneath him. "I…I'm coming." He gasped, struggling to move away. Nixon merely continued. He had won. Victory was coming his way and he was eager to embrace it. 

 

 "Sto-" Turnbull was about to utter until finally Nixon had released him and he had fell back, gasping as he came.

 Nixon looked down over the other man's lying form, smiling sinisterly "So you really thought you could take me. Not by a long shot. There is only one person who can take me down and that is Henry…"

 Just then, Turnbull had jolted up and had pinned Nixon to the floor. The president was sweating heavily, completely taken off guard. His eyes were filled with so much terror, as if he were harmless animal trapped by a predator. Despite his paranoid nature that had always placed him one step ahead, nothing had prepared him for this. 

 The Australian laughed, "You should not have spoken too soon. But I guess you can't help that, being the man who is all talk. I know you too well…Tricky Dick." 

 Nixon frowned at Turnbull, but his mouth was gape. Despite trying to look intimidating, he was unable to hide his fear. 

 Seeing him look so defenceless stirred some pity. Turnbull smiled at him reassuringly, almost kindly. He placed a hand to his cheek. "Do not worry, Mr President…I will go gentle on you." At that, Nixon flushed, although the room was too dark for anyone else to tell. 

 "N-no..." Nixon begged, stumbling a little from his drunkenness. He had never been taken this way by anyone else other than his National Security Advisor. In this way, it had felt like betrayal. "I…I can't accept."

 "It is okay, Mr President." Kissinger responded, his voice heavy with lust "I understand." His hand went to Turnbull's hair again and gave the strands a firm tug, making Turnbull to exhale loudly. "I just want you to obey to me…" He smirked "Communications boy…" 

 Turnbull spun around, gripping Kissinger's member and fondling it quickly. The other man panted as he did so, but he showed no sign of surrender. He pulled away.

 "I mean it, Malcolm." He said darkly. 

 Turnbull finally obeyed. He planted a couple of kisses to Nixon's face and neck to calm him. "I promise…" He whispered, making his way through the entrance. Nixon breathed sharply as he felt the other man inside him. 

 While he was preoccupied, he stopped short as he felt Kissinger's chest press against his back. He trembled as the other man made his way inside him, just as he had done for Nixon.

"I know you are intruding.." Kissinger murmured menacingly in his ear "But I know you could probably keep our secrets…so I have allowed you to have your way with the president." 

Turnbull moaned as Kissinger began to sway back and forth and started to follow suit. Nixon's hands had rested against the wall as they did so and it continued for a long while. Strangely, something like this would cause so much pain, for no lubricant was used from what he had seen, but he had felt so at ease. Maybe it was the alcohol that was blocking out the pain. He had no idea. But that did not matter. 

Even though their movements had seemed so mechanical and in sync, everything felt entirely natural and pleasurable. Despite feeling the rush when dominating, he was beginning to love being submissive. He was in the middle, exactly where he had wanted to be. It was a pleasure that was forbidden, especially among public servants, or at least something that had to be hidden from prying eyes. But as this happened, he did not feel any sign of guilt or worry about being discovered. It was too enjoyable to end. The play mat was getting slippery with sweat beneath their feet, but he was much too immersed in such pleasure to worry about that. As each motion quickened, and as each went deeper, the air was filled with so many grunts and gasps as all three men savoured this forbidden moment together. 

Finally, just as Nixon slumped down, crying out loudly, all three had came together. They all fell to the floor, Kissinger and Nixon in a strong embrace, kissing feverishly. Turnbull's heart raced as he watched them, feeling slightly jealous. But both turned around to push him to the floor, putting their free arms around him so that they were all locked in an embrace together. Feeling so satisfied and cheerful, Turnbull fell asleep on the play mat, nestled between his new lovers. 

 After what had seemed like hours later, Turnbull had awoken, puzzled as to why he was lying on a twister mat instead of his bed. The room was pitch black and as he sat up, he realised that he was the only person lying on the floor. What happened? 

 Everything came back to him and he shook his head in dismay. In panic, he felt himself to see whether that whole episode had really occurred. But fortunately he was still fully clothed, although his tie was undone and his shirt soaked in sweat. He sat up, desperate to clean up the mess he had created but as he was about to do so, he heard footsteps. He froze and then saw the light come on. 

 "Oh Malcolm…what the devil has happened here?" 

 

 It was Lucy, his wife. 

 Turnbull quickly tried to fold up the play mat and put everything back into the Twister box. "Oh…Lucy. I was.." He tried to think up an excuse that sounded believable. Surely he couldn't speak about this forbidden fantasy "I was tired and decided to have a drink to calm my nerves."

 "Big day at Canberra again?" Lucy asked, knowing all too well of the pressures that a politician had to undergo. She looked at the bottle of scotch that was half empty on the floor. "Is Mr Abbott giving you a hard time again?”

 Turnbull laughed nervously "Oh, just so much work. I'm far too tired to focus." 

 Lucy rested a hand on his shoulder "Well it is very late. Let's head off to bed and you can finish your work tomorrow." 

As she walked him out of the room, he cast a brief glance over his shoulder to see where Nixon and Kissinger were hiding. But it was as if they were never there. 

 

_...I know you could probably keep our secrets_

 

Turnbull chuckled to himself. Of course he could keep their secrets. He realised. Because the whole thing never happened. It had been a fantasy, perhaps driven by exhaustion, alcohol and stress. He never dreamed that this was possible before but headed back to the study to turn off his computer and get ready for bed. 

But something from the corner of his eye caused him to pause. 

  
Sitting on the desk, wide open was the book  _The Reluctant Republic,_ his own publication that had strangely awoken these desires he never thought he had. But sitting just in the middle of the open pages was a small folded piece of notepaper. Frowning in curiosity, he took the paper and unfolded it. Inside, in a scrawl that could only belong to the 37th president of the United States, was a note that reassured him that whatever happened was not at all something from his imagination. 

_To Mr Turnbull,_

_You may have caused me to lose, but I am not a quitter. I will have my victory, you hippy._

_Regards,_

_Richard M. Nixon._

_  
_...Clearly these forbidden pleasures were more than just the workings of an exhausted mind. He looked up, grinning slightly, his eyes bright in determination.

 

Turnbull would be just as excited to see the most powerful man of the 1970s fall to his control again. _Easily._

**Author's Note:**

> Translation key:
> 
> Meine Liebe: My love


End file.
